We know that Sigmund Freud never got to the bottom of the question 'what is it that women really want?' because his final work was not a volume of cupcake recipes.

Romance. It can't be avoided. It has all the sad inevitability of scabies. And what is romance, anyway? On the one hand, you say you don't like someone at work but when their house burns down suddenly I'm the bad guy. And some men grow up eating crayons. Love is not about taking away a man's crayons. What is Romance? Do I put my elbows on the table anymore? No I don't. So there.